Coming Out of the Dark
by deanine
Summary: Alex has lived in the darkness for so long, can he really come back into the light?
1. Prologue

**Introduction: **This story has existed in one form or another pretty much since Mr. Ramos released the last issue of Crimson. I released the prologue to this story as a stand alone, with the thought that I wasn't going to get around to polishing the rest up for some time (if ever). Due to the recent loss of my laptop, all the other things I was working on are gone. Yet I needed something to occupy my mind while waiting for Dell to return my current obsessions. My solution was to start beating this story into shape.

I know the prologue isn't much, but stick around for the first chapter. I think you'll like it.

**Prologue **

**Believe**

Priscilla Elder curled her little hands into tight fists and tried to contain her excitement. Her brother was alive. She tugged her pink jacket and scanned the crowd in the park for her mom and dad. Where were they? They had to hear this. She had to tell them.

"Priscilla Elder, you know better," her mom said. Then she was enveloped in the warm clean scent of her father and lifted into his arms.

"Mommy, Daddy, where were you? I have to tell you..."

"Pris, listen to me," her daddy said. "You scared your mom and me. You can't ever wander off like that, especially in the park. Now, are you ready to go home?"

Pris grinned from ear to ear and hugged her daddy tight. "But you have to let me tell you about Alex." Her mom's smile faded and the color drained out of her face. "I saw him, and he's okay. He wanted me to tell you guys what happened, and that he's coming home, and that he loves us all and misses us and he's sorry we were worried and sad."

Her daddy shushed her gently, keeping an eye on his pale strained wife. "Do you remember the talk we had? Just because Alex is gone, it doesn't mean we have to stop thinking about him, but you have to be able to tell when you're imagining and what's real."

Pris tried not to cry. Her daddy looked so sad and serious. She couldn't hold onto the tears that started streaking down her face. She knew what was real. "But Daddy, it was him. I saw Alex. He hugged me. It smelled like him and felt like him." Pris twisted and squirmed until her dad let her down.

"Pris." Her mom's voice cracked. "Please don't."

Pris rubbed her eyes with her fists and shook her head. "I promised him I'd tell you. Will you let me? Please?"

George Elder really looked in his baby's perfect earnest blue eyes. They were so much like her brother's. Whatever she was trying to say, she believed it. He took his wife's hand and exchanged what was supposed to a secret smile. "Let's listen to what she needs to say, just this once."

Priscilla saw the look her parents exchanged. They were worried about her, and they probably didn't believe a word she'd said. Pris nodded at a park bench and tried to look grown-up and convincing. "Just sit down and listen, okay?" Standing inside the warm glow of a single street lamp, Pris waited for her parents to settle onto the bench.

Now or never, time to tell them what her brother told her. Believe me. "Alex is okay. Daddy, Alex wanted me to tell you he was sorry about the fight you guys had. He said you were right and that he wished he never left the house that night. He's never been more sorry about anything than leaving the house that night." Pris pushed her hair behind her ears and tried to judge whether her parents were listening, or believing her story. "Some really bad people attacked Alex and his friends in the park. Alex and his friends, they all ran away in different directions. Nobody got away though, not even Alex and he runs real fast. The bad people hurt them, but somebody stopped them from hurting Alex as bad as they hurt his friends."

"Someone saved Alex?" George Elder asked gently. "Why didn't Alex come home then?"

Priscilla looked up into her Daddy's eyes and shook her head. "I don't understand what he told me really. Alex said Eckimus saved him, sort of. The bad people were sick and they made Alex really sick too. I don't know what vampire means though? I don't understand why he wouldn't come home after he got sick? We could have taken care of him. I tried to get him to come here and come home but he wouldn't. He said it wasn't safe." Pris's explanation trailed off. She tried to gauge whether her parents had heard her, and believed her. Her mommy was crying, and her dad was just sitting so still. They don't believe me. Pris felt a wave of sobs building in her chest.

"Alex made me practice this part. He made me go over the words so I wouldn't mix it up. Alex said he met some angels and demons, monsters and innocents, enemies and friends. He said he was there when darkness fell over the city, and the dragons were freed. He was there when the darkness lost, and all the vampires were cured, except one..." Pris wiped her running nose and the line of tears off her cheek. "When the guy Eckimus saved Alex, he made him different. So everybody got cured but him. And he still won't come home." Pris could hardly speak she was so caught up in her tears. "He told me to tell you guys that he was going to find his own way home, and that he loves you."

"No, baby," her mom said. She wiped at her eyes and shook her head sadly. "No."

George pushed aside his first inclination toward rationalism. He and his family had seen New York taken by dragons, swarmed by demons, and eclipsed into complete darkness. He couldn't reassure his baby girl that monsters and vampires didn't exist, because he'd seen them. His baby had seen them too. George felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. If dragons and vampires were real, why couldn't Pris's story be true. Could Alex be one of the monsters, one of the demons? Could his son be a vampire? George dropped down to his knees and met his daughter at eye level. "Where did you see Alex? Will he come back to talk to you again? I want to help him."

"George, you can't believe this," Cynthia said. She clutched at the little silver cross dangling around her neck. "Our baby boy is not a vampire."

"What's a vampire?" Pris asked. "Alex wouldn't tell me. He just said it was like being real sick. Is it catching? Is that why he wouldn't come home?"

George didn't know what to say at first. "That's right. It's catching Pris, and Alex didn't want to accidentally make anybody else sick." Thoughts about what Alex must have done to survive, what he must have seen and experienced, chilled George. Even if he could find Alex, could he help? Maybe the church could do something? Or maybe medicine? "If he's out there, we'll find him Pris. We'll help Alex."

"Really Daddy?" Pris asked.

"I can't sit here and listen to this anymore," Cynthia said. She came jerkily to her feet and took a couple of halting steps toward home. In the shadows, too far away to be distinct... "Alex? Alex! George I saw..."

"You saw him?" George came to his wife's side and strained to see into the shadows.

"No, it wasn't him. I don't know what I saw." Cynthia wrapped her hand tighter around her cross. "I don't know."

George supported his wife on the short walk home, he held his little girl's hand, and he watched the shadows for a son, for a monster.


	2. Lost Boy

** Coming Out of the Dark **

__

Cold...  
I wrap myself in the blanket of night  
Breathe in the sleet heavy wind  
And hold it in my frozen chest  
The air swirls -- tainted by my lifeless touch  
I release it back into the night, colder than I found it  


Warm...  
A taste of copper  
Gentle heat floods my mouth  
Spreading down my throat – radiating to my fingertips  
The illusion of life lifts me from the cold  
For a brief moment I am the life and the warmth  


I am a sieve -- the heat flows through me  
Abandons me  
Until only the night remains  
Hold it close – the night is my constant  
I am the night  


** Chapter 1 Lost Boy **

Lucinda Roberts, an older lady with mouse-brown hair and hard gray eyes, slammed the door on her little gray Mazda. She adjusted her old brown purse, straightened her denim jacket, and headed into Mission General Hospital. Making her way purposefully through the busy little lobby, she didn't make eye contact with the sick, the waiting. The souls out here weren't her concern. Lucinda was a social worker, and she saved her worrying for those she could actually help, the children. 

"Hey Ms. Lucinda, Dr. Boyd is expecting you. He's in observation 3," the older nurse behind the reception desk said. She smiled and waved Lucinda on. 

Like a soldier preparing to do battle, Lucinda squared her shoulders and tried to steel herself for whatever might lay ahead. She'd seen a lot of things in twenty years of social work: broken bones, burns, rape. At least this call wasn't sending her to a trauma room or an ICU. "Evening Doctor," Lucinda said. 

Dr. Boyd looked up from the chart he was scribbling on and smiled from behind his wire-rimmed glasses. Like an absentminded grandfather, he pushed his glasses up on his head and set aside his paperwork. "That was fast as always, Lucy. Have you peeked in on the patient yet? He looks to be about 15, no ID, but quite a few battle scars. I thought you might recognize him." 

Lucinda shook her head and followed Dr. Boyd into the little hospital cubicle. The patient was handsome with a mop of black hair and dark smudges under his eyes. Like most children, he looked angelic, sleeping quietly. "I'd remember this one. I don't think he's been through the office. Did you already document the signs of past abuse?" 

"I'm not sure if it's abuse." Boyd started shuffling through the chart at the foot of the bed for the documentation Lucinda would need. 

The patient moaned and rolled in his sleep exposing his neck. Lucinda felt a quiver of pity at the scars flowing like a twisted purple river over his neck and up his left jaw. It was a shame, not quite handsome after all. She took the photos Dr. Boyd presented her with and scanned them critically. Similar marks to those she'd seen first hand on his neck also marked his chest and shoulders. "They aren't burn scars." 

"It almost looks like an animal mauling, but something should have been done to prevent some of this scaring. A few stitches before this healed would have worked wonders, not to mention what could be done now with reconstructive surgery," Dr. Boyd said. He started patting at his pockets, ending his search by dropping his glasses back onto his nose. "He hasn't regained consciousness yet, but there's no reason he shouldn't." 

Lucinda refrained from snorting at Dr. Boyd's mention of reconstructive surgery. If the kid's parents hadn't seen fit to get him stitched up after something attacked him, they weren't likely to spring for a plastic surgeon. If he ended up as a ward of the state, he wouldn't be any better off. In the foster system, things that weren't bleeding or fevered didn't get fixed. "Who found him? Has he been conscious at all? Do you have anything else for me to go on Doc?" 

"A ranger found him in the snow out near Crested Butte. He couldn't have been there for very long or we'd be having this conversation in the morgue. Kid didn't have a coat or boots. I'm shocked we're not having to treat for frostbite. Someone had to have dumped him. There's no way he could have made it out there on foot, not equipped like he was." 

Lucinda pulled up a seat and covered her unconscious kid's hand in her own. It seemed too cool and she rubbed at it gently, working up a bit of warmth. "I'll take care of him, doc." 

* * *

__

Alex closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath of damp stale air. He could feel his gray behemoth of a friend, Ekimus, hovering over his shoulder, waiting for him to take the next step, push the last lever, open the last door, and end each of their Hells. Alex opened his eyes and stared up at a granite gargoyle carved out of the mountain wall. It stood guard over a pair of massive doors. An intricate inlay of patterns covered the doors, and if you stared to hard you'd almost say the pattern shifted, danced before your eyes. The doors caught the light from Alex's torch and almost seemed to reflect it back intensified. 

"This is really it?" Alex whispered. The cave seemed to swallow the words and his companion made no reply. "What now?" 

"Now? Now we finish it," Ekimus said. He guided Alex's hand forward to a tiny stone handle. "A gentle turn... Redemption... Life... Death..." 

* * *

A pair of sharp intelligent blue eyes stared up at Lucinda and she tightened her grip on the patient's hand. "You're awake. Welcome back to the land of the living," she said. Carefully, she modulated her voice to be both soothing and authoritative. "What's your name, kid?" 

_My name? _ A shiver raced down the boy's spine and he held tighter to lady's hand. She was pretty in a motherly way. She felt strong through her hand, and he couldn't help trusting her. _ My name... I don't know my name. _ "I don't know my name. I don't know anything." He pulled at the bedclothes with his free hand, yanking them up to his chin. "I'm so cold." _I'm so scared._

Lucinda stared at her hand where it was resting over the boy's hand. He was colder than when he'd been asleep, too cold. "Hey, you're okay. I'm going to get the doctor." 

Gripping her hand tighter the boy shook his head. "Don't leave me. I think I'm dying. I'm so cold. It hurts." Perfect freezing agony, like standing in January wind without the protection of clothes gripped him. "Why is it so cold?" This cold wasn't attacking from the outside though. It was singing in his bones, burning in his skull. 

"Doctor! Someone, we need help in here!" Lucinda called. He was getting colder. It was like she was feeling his life ebb away under her fingers. "Help!" 

"I can't stand it. Hurts too much." The boy could barely speak as he gasped for air. His eyes rolled back in his head and he slipped into the blessed oblivion of unconsciousness. 

Lucinda backed away slowly, sure that she'd watched the unnamed boy die. She bit into her fist and shook her head angrily. It wasn't fair. They didn't even know his name. 

* * *

__

A little wooden cup, chipped and worn, stood innocuously next to a gentle little natural spring. The only sound in the dim cave, a gentle trickle of water on stone, seemed loud in this sanctuary. "Some blessed cup in an old cave is going to save us? It still seems a little far fetched." 

Eckimus grunted and moved past Alex. "The grace of God is what we seek. The cup is a token, a door, a focus for our faith." Without hesitation he scooped a cup of the water up and held the glass to his lips. "I seek death Alex. Don't be afraid to drink. Whether you are granted life or death, this is the only way out of the half-life you're trapped in." 

Alex wasn't sure what to expect. Ekimus drank. He returned the wooden glass to it's rock and he took a seat beside it. "Ekimus? Are you okay? Did it..." Alex came to Ekimus's side and shook him. The ancient Grigori didn't respond or move. This was what Ekimus wanted, craved since time unspeakable, but Alex still felt like he'd lost a friend... a father. "I'll miss you, Eckie." Alex half-expected Eckimus to stand and chastise him for using the nickname, but he was really gone. "I know you're not supposed to have a soul, so you really can't hear me, but thanks. I couldn't have made it this far without you." Could he drink from that cup? What if he died too? 

"God, I know you probably don't have time to listen to every jerk with problems, or who's scared, but I'm not ready to die. This little cup here is suppose to be special, a door." Alex dipped the cup into the cool spring water and stared at the clear fluid. "Let me live. Please, let me go home. I promised my sister that I was coming home. Please..." 

* * *

Dr. Boyd signed a request for lab work and handed the paperwork and samples off to a nurse. He ran his hands through his thinning gray hair and turned his attention to Lucinda. She was standing to the side, white as a sheet, watching him work. He sometimes wondered about her. She could handle the ugliness and the drama that came with her job, but sometimes, when they caught her off guard, she would retreat, fall apart. The kid's strange thermoregulation crisis seemed to have really spooked her. Honestly, he'd never seen anything like it himself. "Lucy, you okay over there? Let me buy you a cup of coffee." 

"I could use some caffeine, even if it is the hospital variety," Lucinda said. With a last glance back to the bed and her unconscious charge, she headed out and down the hallway. "Is he going to be okay? What happened?" 

"I'm thinking it's hormonal, maybe a steroid imbalance. We're going to keep him on a close watch and under hot water bottles to be safe. Stop worrying, mother hen," Boyd said. He pushed the door to the cafeteria and held it for her. 

* * *

__

The blessed water slid down cool. Alex gulped every drop, praying silently. The liquid sat in his stomach, like a tub of concrete. A burning in his chest ripped through him. He hadn't felt this kind of need since he was twelve with a bad chest cold. Vampires didn't need to breathe, but he was starving for air. Alex dropped to his knees and threw his head back gulping in breathes. 

Two angels watched silently as Alex struggled. The man, blond and hard, shook his head at his companion. She crouched down to watch Alex more closely. 

"He dies here, Gabriel. It's a kindness, to let him die. He'll go to heaven, and it'll be over," Michael said. He couldn't see her face behind the red cascade of curls but she shook her head. "There's no way to burn it out of him completely. There's too much danger in leaving him alive." 

"We owe him a miracle. He saved us all." Gabriel's eyes drifted shut and she felt the gentle warmth of God's presence. "He gets to go home, for now." 

Pins and needles like his body was awakening from the inside out dropped Alex to the ground. He screamed the agony of his heart's first beat. A rusty pump trying to move heavy dead sludge, his heart, stuttered in his chest. "It hurts too much. Please make it stop." 

"He wants to die then," Michael said. "Stop his heart for him, and let's be done with this mess." 

"He wants the pain to stop," Gabriel said. She stroked her invisible hands over Alex's face and soothed at the raw agony of rebirth. "Taste peace. Sleep." 

* * *

Lucinda pushed her way back into her new case's hospital room, coffee cup in hand. Dr. Boyd had been called into a vehicular trauma so she was on her own. Those cool blue eyes were staring at her again. She waited for a long moment to see if he was going to get sick again. "Awake are we? Hopefully feeling better too? I'm Lucinda. Do you have a name?" 

"I'm Alex." He stared at this woman with the kind eyes and tried to figure out what to say. "Everything was fuzzy before, but I remember it all now." 

"Let's start with the easy stuff. Can you tell me your last name and how you ended up on the mountain with any gear?" Lucinda took a seat and patted Alex's hand. 

"No, because I'm not ready to go home. I can't go home unless I'm sure it's over." _ I can still feel it in me, a tiny niggling worm of hunger. My heart's beating and the air is flowing through my lungs, but I'm not all the way back._

"Until what's over Alex?" Lucinda asked. She leaned forward because Alex was speaking so very quietly. 

Alex reached a hand up and ran it over the scars marring his neck and torso. He shook his head sadly. "I wish these hadn't come back with me. I'll probably scare my little sister when she sees me again. I miss my family Ms. Lucinda, and I'm tired of being alone." 

"Let me help you." 

"You can't." 

* * *

** Author's Note:**

Can't say when I'll get chapter 2 up. The chapters to this fic take a lot of tweaking to get into shape. 


	3. Excursion

**

**

Chapter 2 Excursion 

  
  


Priscilla stared out of the passenger window of their car at the rain beading on the glass, and tried not to feel uncomfortable in the silence between her and her dad. She was in so much trouble. "I'm sorry Daddy," Priscilla whispered. "I didn't mean it." 

"You shouldn't do things you don't mean." Keeping an eye on the road, George didn't even look at his little girl. This moment was too reminiscent of the misunderstandings and confrontations he'd fought through with her older brother. At least Alex had waited until high school to become a sullen rebel. Pris was seven for God's sake. To be fair, he hadn't even heard her side. "Just tell me what happened from the beginning. Did Sara start it?" 

"Sort of..." Priscilla bit her lip and tried to think of a way to tell this story that would make her dad understand and not be mad anymore. "I'll tell you the truth, but you're probably going to get really mad at me." 

"I love you, Pris, even when I'm mad. I can't ask anything but that you be honest with me." George took his eyes off the road for just a second to touch his girl's face and comfort her. "Tell me." 

"I borrowed this book from the library, Vampyres – A True History. You probably remember taking it away from me. I wanted to learn about what happened to Alex since you and Mom won't talk to me about it. Well, I did learn a lot before you took it away." 

"I told you I didn't want you reading things like that. I'm going to find Alex..." _...vampire or not. _ "If he's alive and out there, I'll handle it. You have to stop obsessing over this. Focus on being the happiest and best seven-year-old you can be. Let me take care of everything else." 

_ If he's out there...If you could drop the **if** from that statement, maybe I could let you handle it. _ "Right, well I was being happy and good tonight, but Sara was lying. I called her on it and she pushed me. See, we were telling ghost stories and it was Sara's turn. She was doing this whole thing about a vampire cheerleader and how she didn't have a soul and horrible untrue stuff. I couldn't let her lie about vampires like that. Alex still has a soul. How dare she say something like that? I pushed her back and then we were fighting." 

George sighed and prayed for the wisdom to figure this one out. How was he supposed to scold her for defending her possibly-undead brother's right to have a soul? "Did you tell the other girls why you were so serious about this?" 

"No, I promised. I never talk about Alex with anybody except you and Mom."_ But you and Mom won't talk to me...maybe if I start it we can talk for real. _ "I was doing some reading on the internet about the dark time with the dragons in the city, and I found some information about that guy Alex mentioned, Eckimus. There were pictures and he looked so scary, all tall and gray. I printed them out if you want to look when we get home. There's an old church on the lower east side that he was supposed to crash in." 

"And you got all this information from where on the internet?" George asked. "I thought you knew better than to trust just anything you came across." 

"It wasn't just anything." Priscilla rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "It was Indian Joe's Website. He has some of the best information from that bad time. He was a vampire that got cured..."_...and he knew Alex. _

"Pris, please tell me you don't believe this nonsense. This Indian Joe is probably some kid making up stories." George shook his head and gripped his wheel tighter. "I don't want you visiting web-sites with scary stuff. I have a detective and he's going to find Alex for us. He does this for a living." 

Priscilla snorted and sighed. "Right, I'm sure he finds vampires for a living. If he doesn't understand what he's looking for, he'll never find anything. Why won't you let me help? I bet I know ten times what your detective does about what happened to Alex. I e-mailed Indian Joe and he told me..." 

"You what?!" George pulled over to the side of the road as quickly as the slick conditions would allow and turned to his girl with a fierce frown. "I don't want you e-mailing people like that. Do you understand? He could be anybody. If he has a web-site with the kind of things you say he does, he's probably dangerous. Are you hearing me?" 

"It was just an e-mail. Joe knew Alex. I didn't tell him who I was. I mailed him from my anama_fighter e-mail account. There's no way he could have know I was Priscilla Elder, and I didn't ask specifically about Alex. He shared it on his own. Dad he really knew Alex, and he hears from him sometimes." 

"When we get home, I want you to show me, okay? I'm not happy with you, but I'll listen and look at what you've found." George rubbed at his temple and nodded to himself. "Whatever you do, don't bring this up with your mother. She doesn't want to think about this stuff." 

"I have a better idea," Pris said. She pulled a little crumpled sheet of paper out of her pocket. "I want to go to Eckimus's church where he lived with Alex. If you won't go with me I'll find a way to go by myself, but I'd feel better if you came with me." She tried to sound strong and grown up, but her request ended in a hoarse whisper. 

George couldn't say anything for a long moment. "You're serious. You'd sneak out and do that, wouldn't you?" _ When did I lose control of this situation? _ "If your mother or I lost you, Pris, there wouldn't be anything left. Do you understand me? I won't let you act out like this. If I have to send you away to boarding school, I will. I don't want to, but I will." 

"Why can't we just be a team? I wouldn't tell Mom, but I'd tell you everything, and you could keep me safe all you want," Priscilla begged. "We'd find Alex and help him, save him. I know we can do it." 

_ If I send her away, she'll never forgive me, but if I keep an eye on her, I can at least control the situation. _ "If you promise to tell me everything and to always ask before you do anything like visit this church, we can be a team. We'll look together." 

Unbuckling her safety belt, Pris threw herself into her dad's arms. "Thank you so much. I was afraid to go to the church alone, and I really needed some help." 

She was such a brave little angel. "You can always come to me baby. Don't ever be afraid to come to me. Now buckle up. We're going to visit a church, aren't we?" 

* * *

Pris couldn't help wondering if her eyes were as big as they felt. Her dad actually drove her to the church, and it was huge, all gothic arches. It looked like the kind of place a vampire would haunt. "Joe said that the bad element of the neighborhood don't go in here. Eckimus lived here so long, that they're afraid of it." Stepping out of the car, Pris didn't even approach the door until her dad was at her side. 

George took his girl's hand and tried not to be overly anxious about their excursion. At least it had stopped raining, and there weren't any thugs or homeless people lurking about. _ In and out, _George told himself. "I want you to stay right with me every step. Don't let go of my hand. This place is condemned, and the first sign that there's any danger, we're leaving." 

Priscilla brandished the flashlight she'd packed for the slumber party and nodded. "Let's do it." The inside of the church wasn't much different from the outside. Dark and musty like some kind of crypt, the place smelled of mold and something rotten. Old drapes hung in tatters along the tall arched windows, not really blocking out the dim glow of the street lights. Pris squirmed a little, pulling her hand free of her dad's, but he didn't seem to notice. 

_ Did Alex really live in this place? _George almost choked on the smell lingering in the air, and tears welled in his eyes. "Stay close, Pris." 

"Oh my God, Dad," Pris murmured. She shone her light into the rafters an illuminated a wall of her family. There were a hundred newspaper clippings, most of them were Dad, but he was in the paper more than anyone else. Most of them were old and wrinkled and yellowed. She couldn't find any fresh clippings. "Do you think Alex collected them?" 

"I don't know. God, everything is here from after Alex disappeared, even your mother's social listings and the articles about your school's new wing. If it wasn't Alex, I don't want to know who collected this. We should go home now, just to be safe. I'll send the detective, Mr. Kent, out here tomorrow to check this out in detail." George groped for Pris's shoulder but she moved forward out of reach. 

"Wait, Dad. I think I see something." Pris scrambled up one of the tilting rafters and just managed to get a fingertip on a little bound volume of something. "I almost have it." Straining onto her tiptoes, she managed the get a hand solidly onto the treasure she'd spotted. Then she was falling and screaming. 

"I've got you," George said. He managed to catch his little girl before she could hit the old marble floor. "We're going home now, okay?" 

Priscilla nodded and clutched the book she'd almost injured herself over. Shining her light down on it, her heart fell. It was just a stupid Bible. She'd thought maybe it was a journal or something personal of Alex's. God wasn't looking out for her family, and Pris wasn't going to read his stupid book. Why did God let things happen the way he did?

* * *

In the rafters, invisible to simple human eyes, an ethereal creature, beautiful beyond reason, spread her wings and prayed for the little girl and her family. Zophiel couldn't touch Priscilla or speak to her, but she could feel her anger and disappointment toward God. "God loves you," Zophiel whispered. "He's sending your Alex home, even though it's dangerous. God believes in you Priscilla like he believes in Alex. Don't give up on him. Have a little more faith." Zophiel leapt from the rafters and followed Priscilla and her father home. She went with Pris into her bedroom and while the little girl showered, Zophiel flipped open the bible to the first page. "I have to go check on your brother now, but this will help you, I hope."

* * *

"I can't believe Dad really took me to the church," Pris told her Teddy. "Can you believe it?" She wasn't such a baby that she really thought Teddy could hear her or anything, but the old bear was her favorite sounding board. "Alex lived there. He was undead at the time, but he was there. Do you realize how close he was?" 

Still damp from the shower, Pris plopped down on her bed next to the bible she'd rescued. It had fallen open, no wonder considering how tattered and worn it was. She was about the sweep it off her bed, when she realized that the pages weren't crisply printed. Her brother's handwriting was scribbled over the dedication page and the cover. "No way, are you a journal after all?"Snatching the book up she read what he'd left behind. 

__

This is officially my first real present since dying.   
Eckimus gave me this old Bible and told me it would   
help me keep my faith and not despair. I don't   
know if he's right, but if I find anything in here that   
helps, I'm going to write it in the covers, so I'll be   
able to get at it fast when things turn bad.  


The rest were scripture references. Pris picked one and turned to it. It wasn't hard to find after she located the chapter. Alex had underlined it in red. There were a lot things underlined in red from what she could tell from just flipping through. 

** Lamentations 3:19-22**

__

I remember my affliction and my wandering, the   
bitterness and the gall. I well remember them,   
and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I   
call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because   
of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for   
his compassions never fail.  

Was she supposed to take this to heart? So Alex read a few bible verses and maybe they comforted him a little, but she wasn't going to forgive God that easily. He let evil steal her brother, and when Alex helped beat back the darkness, God wouldn't even let him be cured with the rest of the vampires. It wasn't fair. Pris closed the bible and set it on her nightstand. She'd show it to Dad tomorrow. 

Cuddling down under the covers, Pris didn't pray like her mother taught her. Instead, she sent a wish to her brother. "Be well. Come home. I love you." 

* * *

** Author's Note:**

I'm in my third year of vet school at the moment and my writing goals include one chapter every two weeks. I have approximately half-a-dozen fics running in three different fandoms, so I can't say when Crimson's number will come up again. Hopefully soon, right? Thanks so much for the reviews! They were a pleasant surprise :) 


	4. Lumen Atrum

**

**

Chapter 3 Lumen...Atrum 

"Hey, Lucinda what are you doing?" 

Lucy looked up from her stack of case files and glowered at the ruddy-cheeked sweater vest-wearing man standing over her desk. Barry was her supervisor, and he was good at what he did, supervise others working. "Morning Barry, I'm just getting some paperwork into order. Can I help you?" Resettling her glasses on her nose, Lucinda waited for the inevitable rain of useless directives that were sure to follow. 

"As a matter of fact, you can help me. I'd like to pick up a couple of files you won't be needing anymore. Let's see." Barry squinted down at a yellow post-it on the back of his hand. "The Fillmore case, Georgina Tuttle, the unknown Alex, and Deborah Fielding." 

Lucinda sighed deeply and placed a possessive hand over the stack of files in front of her. "Deborah Fielding, you can have. I'm not finished with the rest of those." She didn't just mean the paperwork either, though Barry would assume that. Lucinda did her best for these kids, including making sure abuse came to light, addictions were dealt with, and unknown Alex's became individuals with real last names. 

"Now don't think I don't know that you hound these cases after you're supposed to be moving on. I'm here to tell you that it has to stop. It's hurting our efficiency rating, and I'm responsible for keeping that up. Hand over the files Lucy, and head over to the home to help with the annuals." Barry placed a hand on the files and did his best to look imposing. 

Lucinda smiled sweetly and tugged her files out from under Barry's sweaty hand. "Now, you know these are useless until I finish the forms. I'll be down to review my kids at the home in a few minutes. Thanks." She hated the way he referred to the children in the group home as annuals, as though they had no meaning except for their annual paperwork. "Seriously, I'll be down in a few minutes." Lucy tried to convince herself that Barry was just too focused on the details of his job to see the spirit of it most of the time. If she let herself believe he was as short-sighted and callous as he acted, she'd have lost it years ago and decked the smug cockroach. 

As soon as she had her office to herself again, Lucinda abandoned her paperwork and scooted over to her computer. She'd uploaded half a dozen pictures of her case, Alex, to the AVIS national directory. She needed to add a couple of sentences to his biography and the new listing would be ready for viewing. With a little luck, someone would see the listing who knew the kid before she had to submit her final report. If someone didn't come forward before the hospital discharged him, they would have to turn him loose to fend for himself. Alex insisted that he was eighteen, and though he didn't look it, without proof otherwise they weren't legally able to hold him. 

Moving her mouse over to the_ publish now _link, Lucinda clicked once and rolled the dice for the latest in her stack of pet projects.

* * *

How long could a social worker hold someone hostage? 

Alex stared at his hospital room's foam tile ceiling and counted the indentions in the rectangle right over his head. Maybe he looked like a fifteen year old, but he wasn't. When he happened to get his throat torn out, yes, he'd been fifteen, but explaining the concept of vampirism and its effect on human growth and development wasn't likely to help his case for getting out of the hospital and out of social services' custody. 

Alex wasn't above just running away. If he thought he could make it from his bed to the door, he might already be gone. But he was exhausted, aching in every muscle, and he didn't think his legs would support him on an escape attempt. A smile tugged at his lips despite the pain. Pain was good, an affirmation of the heart beating a regular rhythm in his chest. Ekimus had been right it seemed. Life was possible if a bit of an excruciating experience. Not that he was complaining... 

For the first time in nearly five years he'd eaten real food and had really tasted it. Sure it was hospital fare, but he'd relished every bite, even the orange Jell-O. The doctors still had a drip running into his arm, but they'd promised to discontinue it if he drank everything they sent him with his meals. The nurses kept coming with needles and pills and tests. Alex couldn't help wondering if those tests were coming back normal. He didn't feel normal, not that he knew how that was supposed to feel anymore. What did he feel? It was hard to explain, even to himself. 

But the hunger lingered. 

Like a half-forgotten pleasure itching to be revived, it nibbled at him in his waking hours and haunted his dreams with the memory of warm coppery liquid flowing down a cool dead throat. Alex hated the urge. He hated knowing that it wasn't over. More than anything he was afraid. What was he, some living, sudo-vampire? Ekimus's holy grail brought him back to life, but it hadn't done its job perfectly. Now he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. The hunger wasn't something a vampire ignored. Alex learned that lesson the hard way. It could drive you mad, short-circuit your brain, and you became the hunger without conscience or soul to guide your killing. 

It had been two days and nights now since he'd dealt with that particular vampire-need, and under normal circumstances, he'd have been half mad already, losing his human form along with his mind. Maybe the lack of effect was a good sign that he could ignore the vampire craving and not suffer the old consequences. Maybe he was supposed to ignore it now? 

The bottom line was that he needed to figure those little details out before he could consider lingering in polite company for any length of time. Alex grimaced and tried sitting up straighter in his bed. The effort left him panting breathless. He'd just have to get some strength back, and make an escape when he was capable. Hopefully he wouldn't vamp out unexpectedly and hurt anyone in that process. 

His room was private, but it didn't have a window. Alex wondered quietly how the sun would greet him now? Was he more man or vampire?

* * *

Unseen by Alex or any of the attending hospital staff, two angels inhabited the vinyl visitor's chairs inside Alex's room. The female, an ethereal beauty, with flowing red curls watched the patient with a kind smile. Her male counterpart with his blond hair and blue eyes stared with a harder, colder expression. 

"You are being foolish, Gabriel," Michael growled. "If we had let him die, vampirism could have died with him. As things stand, he's an epidemic waiting to happen. Our very own typhoid Mary, and you insist on cultivating his future." 

"He won't spread his affliction. Alex is strong enough to live this life we've left for him. I think he's proved an ability to stand against darkness," Gabriel said. She shot Michael a tense smile. "Besides, it's too late to let him die. What happens now is out of our hands. If he can't handle his darkness, if he falls back into the night, I'll kill him myself. It will be my last gift to him." 

Michael didn't answer for a long moment. Gabriel could be entirely too kind hearted. Killing Alex would wound her heart, and she should have saved herself the pain. They should have let Alex die. It was safer, easier, less painful in the long run. But Gabriel wouldn't let it happen. She was relentless when championing a cause, seemingly oblivious to his own higher rank or his superior wisdom. "How are we supposed to even explain his situation to him? He can't see heavenly beings anymore. Without knowledge, he's doomed to fail." 

"You're not going to like it, but I asked our brother to talk with him. He owes me one, and he's always liked this child," Gabriel said. She looked away from Michael's darkening expression and lifted her head regally. "Alex will have his chance." 

"You asked our brother?" Michael hissed. "We only have one brother who can appear to humans without direct assistance from God himself, and you know better than to ask him." 

"Lucifer agreed to help, and it's too late not to ask him,' Gabriel said. She couldn't ignore the waves of hot anger boiling off Michael, but she didn't have to respond to it. His hatred of Lucifer lowered him in her eyes. He couldn't let his hate go and just love and pity his fallen brother. "What would you have done differently?" 

"I don't know, but I would not have involved him. Lucifer would love Alex to fail. He'll be doing his best to sabotage him," Michael said. "You've doomed your pet project with this scheme. If you don't kill him when he falls, I will." 

Without waiting for Gabriel's response, Michael abandoned the hospital room in a flutter of feathers and light. Alone with Alex, Gabriel approached his bedside. "Be strong my little paladin. I believe in you, and so does God. Lucifer comes with the information you'll need. You understand his kind. You'll understand his message. Good luck Alex. We will all be watching, and praying."

* * *

** Author's Note**

Well, it's been a long time, and I can't say when the next chapter will be ready. I have too many WIPs and extremely limited time. Thanks for the constructive comment, btw. If I ever finish and go back through rewriting, I'll try to apply it. 

Well, peace and love!


	5. A Side of Green Jello

**Chapter 4 – A Side of Green Jello**

"Rise and shine sleepy head."

Alex groaned and draped an arm across his face hiding from the glaring hospital lights. Hadn't these nurses heard that the recently resurrected needed their sleep? The glare faded as the nurse who had flipped on the lights hovered over him casting a shadow over his face. Alex dropped his arm and squinted up at the man who was smiling down at him. Long bond hair framed a handsome chiseled face set with a pair of icy blue eyes. It wasn't a nurse torturing him with lights before the crack of dawn. It was Satan.

Typical.

"You need something?" Alex asked. He had no idea what the devil could want with him, but he marshaled every bit of false bravado he could muster. He commanded himself to forget about the hunger and his doubts about his own redemption. "If you haven't heard, I'm alive now, not a creature of darkness anymore. Heart's beating. Blood's pumping. I even ate green Jello and really tasted it, not that I enjoyed the experience."

"No, I imagine it was a rather dull meal, when I know what you're craving," Satan said. His voice was resonant and deep, a voice you could trust. "I dropped by to let you know the rules to your conditional resurrection. Ready? You're alive until you die. You can die now like any human being, and you can live but not like any human being, because my high and mighty siblings left you with a burden, a hunger. You feel it don't you. Can you taste it?" Satan caught his bottom lip between his teeth and bit until the blood rolled down his chin.

Alex looked away from the devil and the stream of blood that trickled tantalizingly down his face. "I'm alive now," he said. "I don't need that anymore. I don't want it."

"Don't bother lying," Satan said. "You don't need it but you do want it. It's your burden, resisting this desire. It won't get stronger, and it won't drive you mad the way it once did. Hell, it isn't any stronger than a nicotine craving for a smoker, and people quit smoking everyday. What are those cold-turkey success rates? Five percent? Three percent? You'll be fine as long as you stay on the wagon, but if you give in, I still have an opening for a creature of darkness." Satan pulled a blank black card out of his pocket and set it on Alex's starched white covers. "If you need me, just call. We could make beautiful music together."

* * *

The music pounding out of Priscilla Elder's thick black ear-muff headphones wasn't the usual pre-teen fare. She was leaving the bubblegum pop for the girls who were focused on things like being elected most beautiful or getting a cute boyfriend. Priscilla had more important tings to focus on, darker things. Rolling her mouse back and forth like an expert, she scrolled through the meaningless posts at Indian Joe's bulletin board and looked for the aliases she knew posted the good stuff, stuff she'd be interested in, stuff about her brother. Finding a likely post she clicked on it. 

_Subject: Alex?_

_From: RedWolf_

_Date/Time: 12/30/03 01:02 AM PST_

_I found this article off the AP website. Check out the picture.  
I think it's Alexander Krakov. I can't wait for his next novel.  
He takes the vampire novel to a better place. If Bram Stoker  
and Ann Rice had a child it would so be Alexander Krakov. My  
question is, what is Krakov doing in a Sweedish IHOP?_

_Red_

Priscilla groaned, rolled her bright brown eyes, and clicked the back button. Who were these morons and why didn't they read the category that they were posting in. This was the serious news folder, not the gossip folder. Scrolling through the remaining topics, Priscilla felt her frustration growing until she was brimming with it. In exasperation she started her own topic.

_Subject: I need NEWS!_

_From: LittleElder_

_Date/Time: 12/30/03 02:32 AM PST_

_Has anyone heard from Alex, the Alex, you know who I'm talking  
about, Joe. I need to know something, anything. Please email me  
if you have any news. Anyone?_

_Thanks,_

_LE_

Knowing that waiting for a response in front of the computer would drive her slowly insane, Priscilla abandoned her computer and threw herself across her bed. She didn't quite manage her flying leap without unplugging her headphones and freeing her music to fill her room and the rest of the house. Pris flew forward quickly silencing her radio, but the damage was done. Lights had already come on out in the hall and her parents were beating at her door. "Come in."

"It's two AM, young lady. Eight year old little girls sleep at two AM," Mom said. She turned to her yawning husband looking for backup, and he nodded his agreement. "I'll just take this, and we'll see if you can fall asleep if you don't have Smashing Cantaloupes or whatever it is you listen to ruining your hearing." She unplugged, Pris's rounded pink stereo and hefted it into George's abdomen for him to carry away.

"Go to sleep, doodle-bug," George commanded. He used his mock-stern voice, and hefted his daughter's radio under his arm. "If we catch you awake again, I think you may lose the computer."

As much as Priscilla wanted to stay up and wait for someone to reply to her post, she knew how annoying it was lose your computer. She'd experienced that particular punishment before. Instead she crawled under her covers and closed her eyes. Sleep didn't hide from her now that she wasn't running from it and she drifted away.

* * *

Not so far away in a run-down apartment building, a scruffy middle-aged detective, David Freeman, was sipping instant coffee and actively fighting the urge to sleep. His room was dark except for the dull electric glow of his computer screen. He wasn't trolling personal websites looking for news on missing children. He was cruising a more reputable source. 

There were a dozen files open in front of him, active cases he was being paid to investigate, missing children: Simon Dixon, Eve Harvey, Cindy Lewis, Alex Elder, Evan Reynolds. Their faces looked up at him and he scrolled through the missing children databases looking for their faces, a sighting, a clue.

The AVIS National Directory was very user friendly and David could view fifty children's faces with a click of the mouse. His high-speed connection did the rest, refilling the screen over and over.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," David whispered. Click. Click. Click.

"Whoa Nelly." David caught a familiar face, third row, fifth column. "Alex Elder? Hello puppy."

* * *

George returned to bed after depositing his daughter's stereo in the closet. He had just snuggled down under the covers, settling back to a place of calm where sleep might be possible when the phone rang, jangling into the silence. A whole litany of expletives on the tip of his tongue for whoever was calling him at two AM, George snatched the phone out of its cradle. "George Elder." His tone communicated the annoyance he restrained himself from actually expressing. 

"Mr. Elder, apologies for the early morning call. It's David Freeman at East Avenue Detective Agency. Your contact person has been Mrs. Spencer. The file said I was to call you immediately if there were any developments, however minute, in our investigation for you."

Sleep forgotten, George slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom, so that Cynthia couldn't hear. She would assume the call was from work, and he wouldn't have to worry about upsetting her unnecessarily. "What have you found?"

"It's a hot one, sir. A social worker in Colorado put a picture of your son on AVIS, one of the big national directories. She listed him as maybe fifteen, but according to her notes, he's claiming eighteen which we know he is, even if he doesn't look it. They won't be able to hold him after he walks out of the hospital. I'm booking a flight for one of our people that's taking off in two hours. Would you like a ticket as well? We understand if you'd like to join our agent."

"Of course I want to fly out there. You're certain it's him? Why is he in the hospital?" George asked. "What the Hell is he doing in Colorado?"

"I couldn't say, sir," David said. "I've booked your flight. You can pick up your ticket at the United Counter."

After hanging up the phone, George sank down onto the edge of the tub and stared unseeing at himself in the mirror. After more than three years, they'd found his son, on the other side of the country, and in the hospital. Vampires didn't go to the hospital. Vampires were dead. They didn't get injuries, and the hospital couldn't cure death. George grinned, his logic leading him to a good place for a change. His son was in the hospital, for whatever reason, and he couldn't be undead.

George closed his eyes and started silently thanking God for this miracle, however it had come about.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Another chapter down, and a few more to go. I want to finish this story this year. It's a goal. I'm saying it out loud, which makes it tangible, not a promise, but a GOAL!

Peace!


End file.
